Left in the Dark
by Deana
Summary: Aramis is left alone in the dark for so long that he even loses track of time. My entry in the 'Fete des Mousquetaires' contest for December and sequel to 'Give it Time'.


LEFT IN THE DARK

A Musketeer story by Deana

My entry in the 'Fete des Mousquetaires' contest for December and sequel to 'Give it Time'.

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Darkness is something that everyone knows. It descends on the Earth at night, and we see it every time we close our eyes. Being left alone in the dark can frighten everyone no matter their age, and some unfortunate souls are left in the dark forever either from defect or injury.

Aramis was currently in the dark, and had been for a long time...how long, he wasn't sure, but it was long enough to thoroughly annoy him.

With a sigh, Aramis shifted his position, wincing when the ropes that bound him dug into his wrists. His entire body was cramped, and he let out a soft moan of discomfort, sighing again when his head started to pound. He wasn't surprised, as the pain still had yet to fade after the head injury that had robbed him of his memory for fifteen days. Two months had passed since then and it was nearly Christmas now, as Aramis was reminded by the fact that he was nearly freezing to death where he lay.

 _Porthos must be out of his mind with worry,_ Aramis thought. His huge friend had always been protective of him, but ever since he'd been attacked, Porthos had not left his side. Aramis understood why, as headaches and sudden dizzy spells still plagued him, and he was still only on light duty... _very_ light. Treville only allowed him to do the simplest things, and some days he was glad, as the damage to his brain from the injury was also preventing his body from regulating its temperature; he was always so cold...like now.

Aramis violently shivered, wishing that his friends would find him. He didn't even know why he'd been taken or where he was. For the hundredth time, he tried to get free from his bonds, but to no avail.

Sighing again, Aramis gave up, wishing there was some sound to clue him on where exactly he was. Everything was completely quiet; all he knew was that he lay on a stone floor and he was aching, tired, freezing, and hungry.

A chuckle escaped Aramis. He'd lost a little weight after he'd been injured, and his friends had made it their mission to help him regain it back, constantly offering him food. He'd joked that they were going to make him weigh more than he did _before_ the attack, but Porthos argued that he needed to eat to regain his strength, too, which they didn't think he'd fully recovered yet.

Aramis shifted his position again, remembering another time that he'd been in a similar situation. He'd been kidnapped in a revenge plot against Captain Treville*, and it had been one of the first things that he'd remember after he'd lost his memory…rather, he remembered being tied up and his friends had described what had happened to him. He certainly didn't enjoy being tied up again and struggled once more to get free.

Suddenly, the sound of a door opening filled his ears, and his heart sped up with anxiety. Had his friends found him, or were his captors about to kill him?

Footsteps sounded and Aramis felt the rope around his legs get cut before he was yanked to his feet and pulled away. He stumbled with disorientation in the dark, and his frozen legs had a difficult time keeping him upright and moving.

Someone grabbed him on the other side and herded him along. He could tell from their roughness and lack of conversation that it was not his friends, and his heart sank.

Ice-cold air suddenly blasted Aramis in the face, making him unintentionally gasp. He was dragged along in the snow and pulled to a sudden stop.

"Here's the musketeer!" a voice suddenly called. "Do you have my brother?"

"Yes!" Captain Treville's voice called. "Let Aramis go and I'll send him to you!"

"Send my brother, and I'll let the musketeer go!" the voice called back.

"They both go together!" said Treville.

The man apparently agreed, for Aramis was suddenly pushed forward. "Walk straight ahead, musketeer," a voice snarled.

Aramis obeyed, wishing that they'd cut his bonds so he could remove the blindfold. He had no choice but to walk in darkness, not even sure if he was going straight.

The crunch of snow meant that someone was coming, whoever Aramis assumed to be the man's brother. Aramis wondered just who he'd been ransomed to trade for, and just as the man passed him, he was suddenly grabbed and pulled off his feet to roll in the snow where they landed behind some bushes.

Gunfire and swordplay erupted around them, and Aramis felt his bonds being cut.

"Are you all right?" said a familiar voice.

"Athos!" Aramis exclaimed. He gasped as his arms were freed, and winced as he painfully brought them forward. Before he could say anything else, the blindfold fell from his eyes, and the darkness was replaced with blinding daylight and the extreme brightness of the snow.

Athos winced himself when Aramis gave a soft cry of distress and closed his eyes. He should've realized that his friend's eyes would be sensitive.

Aramis lowered his head, painfully raising numb hands to his face.

"Were you blindfolded the whole time?" Athos asked, over sounds of battle.

"Yes," Aramis told him. His head continued to throb and he failed to suppress a groan. Athos' hands grabbed his arms and he knew that his friend was shielding him from further harm with his own body.

The chaos around them eventually stopped, and others joined them in the snow.

A cloak was suddenly wrapped around Aramis' shivering form, and he managed to open stinging eyes halfway just as someone bear-hugged him.

"Are you all right?!" Porthos asked.

Aramis smiled. "Yes. What day is it?"

"Christmas Eve!" said d'Artagnan.

Aramis was shocked and happy at the same time. "I didn't miss it?!"

"No," Porthos said, pulling away and fixing the cloak around his friend. "And now that we found you, it's gonna be the _best_ Christmas that we've ever had!"

THE END

* 'Misguided Revenge': story id 12078844


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